


Superboy

by alanabloom



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, family fic, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanabloom/pseuds/alanabloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Alana, Will, their son, and the dogs live in a beach house in Florida where everything is beautiful and no food is people.  Utterly shameless family fluff.  Vignette style.  Could be seen as a follow up to 'for blue, blue skies'.  Fic request, sorta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superboy

**Author's Note:**

> So after my last fic which hit unprecedented levels of angst, I got a lot of requests for fluff, and a few specific requests for Willana baby/kid fic. Fluff does _not_ come as naturally to me as angst, but I did my best to accommodate. Vignette style, random glimpses of life rather than a singular cohesive plot.

Will Graham climbs out of the car and is immediately hit with the welcoming, familiar scent of thick, saltwater air. In the year and a half since they moved to the Florida beach house, it's a smell that's become normal, barely even noticeable, but tonight it's a stark, startling contrast from the sterile, antiseptic smells of a hospital.

Hurrying to the other side of the car, Will hurries to open the backseat door for Alana. She gives him a patented Look as she climbs out, having already lifted the small, squirming bundle into her arms from the carrier. "We're fine, Will. I can walk."

He smiles, a little sheepishly. "I know."

He lifts a suitcase and the now empty carrier out of the car, then slams the door shut with his hip. When he looks up, Alana's eyes are closed, a dreamy sort of smile on her face. "Smells good, doesn't it?"

"I was thinking the same thing." 

They fall into step beside each other, walking across the driveway and up the porch steps. Will sets down the suitcase to unlock the front door, then moves aside for Alana to go in. 

"Okay, little man," she says softly, tilting their son slightly in her arms, as if to give the newborn a better look at his surroundings. "Welcome home."

Immediately, barking ensues from another room, and soon most of the dogs swarm the foyer, barking excitedly at their owners' return, circling Will and Alana's ankles, begging for attention. 

Will kneels down, rubbing each of the animals behind the ears, murmuring greetings. He straightens up soon, to find Alana regarding him with an amused look.

"What?"

She affects a mock solemn face. "This is it. Time to have The Talk." For a moment, Will's confused, and then Alana looks pointedly from the baby to the dogs. 

Will smiles, getting it. He reaches out, but Alana immediately pivots out of his reach. "First wash your hands."

He blinks at her. "You know if we do that every time we touch a dog, there's gonna be an obscene amount of hand washing." Alana gives a little _what are ya gonna do?_ shrug, unwavering. "Okay. You're gonna be _that_ mom. Good to find out early on."

" _Wash_."

A few minutes later, his hands washed and the dogs gathered on the back porch, Will holds his son his arms. Gazing down at the tiny boy, he says softly, "Jesse, this is everybody." Looking up at the dogs, he tells them, "Everybody, this is Jesse."

"Is this the part where you tell them you don't have favorites, and you love them all the same?"

At the sound of Alana's teasing voice, Will glances back to see his wife leaning in the doorway, watching him with a soft, affectionate expression. He smiles. "Had to cut that part out. They're all just playing for second now."

She lifts her eyebrows. " _Second_?"

"You and Jess are tied for first," he says quickly.

Grinning, Alana comes to stand beside him, peering down at Jesse. "Good save."

Will cranes his neck to brush his lips against her hairline. "How're you feeling?" 

"Good." She lifts her hand absently, letting Jesse wrap his entire fist around her pinkie finger. "Tired. But I _heard_ that's pretty much constant for at least a year."

"Nasty rumor," Will jokes softly. 

Alana rests her chin on his shoulder, her arms snaking around his waist; both of their gazes are fixed on their son, and Will is seized with a sensation he's had about a hundred times in the past two days: the feeling that his heart is swelling, near bursting in his chest, too full of happiness and amazement and love to continue functioning.

His face is the picture of awestruck wonder as he stares down at the crimson faced bundle in his arms. Jesse Graham is 7lbs, 1 oz, with huge blue eyes and a head of silken dark hair that has, inevitably, been the first thing anyone mentions. To Will's mind, he is inexpressibly perfect.

As often happens after the heart swelling sensation, a sudden burst of ice cold fear knifes through Will as he stares down at his son. "Do you, um..." He stops talking abruptly; there's a trembling, childlike note of worry in his voice, and he has to swallow hard before finishing the question. "Do you think I'll be okay at this?"

For a second, Alana says nothing. Then Will feels her let go of him, lifting her head, and she steps back enough so she can look up at him. Heart in her eyes, Alana says, "Will. I think you are going to be very, _very_ good at this."

He meets her gaze, voice small as he asks, "Really?"

"Really."

The corner of his lips quirk upward. "You aren't just saying that because it's too late to back out?"

Alana smiles, but doesn't continue the joke. Instead, she says seriously, "No. I'm saying that because you are the kindest, bravest, and most dependable man I've ever known. And I think I got pretty lucky getting you as my husband. And Jesse's really lucky to have you as his dad."

Will looks down at the baby for a long moment. When he returns his gaze to Alana's, his eyes are wet. "God, I love you."

She wraps a hand around the nape of his neck, smiling gently. "Good answer, huh?"

"Pretty good, yeah."

Alana kisses him then, soft and slow. When she pulls back, she adds, "It scares me, too, you know?" She looks down at the baby, now drifting off to sleep in his father's arms. "Look at him. I just want to protect him from everything bad in this world...and it already scares me that we won't be able to."

"You're pretty good at protecting the people you love," Will tells her softly. "I should know."

She gives him a grateful look. "Good answer." Grinning a little, Alana adds, "See, look at this teamwork."

Will stares at her for a long time. His heart is swelling again, and it hurts in the best way possible. He thinks of how Alana has always, _always_ made him feel a little safer, just by her mere presence. He thinks of the way she radiates strength, the way it has always been impossible to feel completely alone, no matter what the circumstances, because she has always been there.

If nothing else, Jesse is the luckiest kid ever to have her for his mom.

*

"Will, come _here_."

"What's wrong?" he asks absently, not taking his eyes off the fishing reel he's putting the finishing touches on. It has taken him nearly a month to patch together enough free minutes to work on this. 

"Nothing's wrong, but you'll want to see this."

Taking her word for it, Will comes quickly to a stopping point and stands up, hurrying into the living room to find Alana standing in the middle of the room, her phone pointed at the couch, where Jess's head is pillowed against Winston's stomach. Draped across his feet is Kylie, one of the smaller dogs. All three are dead asleep.

Will covers his mouth in silent laughter, coming to stand next to Alana as she films on her camera phone. "How did that even happen?"

"No idea," she whispers. "But he's _so_ your son."

"We didn't really give him much choice in being a dog person," Will observes dryly.

"True."

For a moment they stand there, watching the two year old sleep soundly, when suddenly Alana's smile softens, and she glances up at Will.

His eyes flick to hers. "What're you thinking about?"

"I was just remembering something." Before he has to ask, she clarifies, "The first time I saw you with your dogs."

Will frowns slightly, skimming backwards through his memories. "When was that?"

"The morning I came to tell you Abigail Hobbs woke up." They exchange a quick, solemn look at the mention of her name, and then Alana continues, "It was the first time I'd been to your house."

"Right." Will smirks, bumping his shoulder lightly against hers. "Because you used to avoid being in a room alone with me."

Suppressing a smile, Alana shoots him a mock affronted look, "I was trying to be a good friend."

"Oh, you were a very good friend. The best. Just made it kind of difficult to find time to kiss you."

She rolls her eyes. " _Anyway_. I knew you had dogs. You'd mentioned it before. But I thought that meant maybe two or three. Not...what was it back then? Seven? Eight?" 

He thinks for a moment. "Seven."

"Right. I didn't know it was that many until they all came running out of your door. And then - and I remember this so clearly - we were inside, and you were making coffee, and one of the dogs, I think it was Winston, kept whining and nudging your legs. And you just...stopped for a second, in the middle of putting the pot on, and bent down just to pet him for a minute." 

Will looks at her expectantly, waiting for a point. "And?"

Alana smiles. "And that was when I knew I was in trouble."

"That was the moment?" 

"Yeah. I already liked you. But then I found out you were this guy who was impossibly sweet and gentle with his seven adopted dogs." She laughs a little, meeting his eyes. "I was a goner."

Smiling back, Will manages to dredge up his own faded memory of that morning. He remembers that his first thought had been to obsessively wonder how Alana Bloom found out where he lived..and to panic over being half undressed when she showed up. "So I owe it all to Winston, huh?"

"Basically. Well, Winston, and me breaking my vow to avoid being alone with you."

She turns off the video on her phone and snaps a few still photos of Jesse and the dogs. Will moves behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning close to her ear as he whispers, "You're not avoiding being in a room alone with me now, are you?"

Immediately, Alana's body relaxes, melding against his, and Will can feel her smile even though he can't see it. "Not deliberately, no."

"Because I feel like it's been awhile." 

Alana cranes her neck to look at him, nodding pointedly at their napping son. "I wonder why that is."

"We could go be alone right now." She opens her mouth to protest, and Will swiftly cuts her off, "If Jesse wakes up, Winston'll bark."

Alana considers this, a slow smirk spreading across her face. "Good point." She grabs his hand and tugs him toward the stairs. "That's one more you owe Winston."

*

"Moooommy? Daaaaddy?" There's a steady, practiced rhythm to the stage whisper coming from the foot of their bed, repeating the two names in cycling succession, drawing out the same syllable each time.

Will blinks blearily into the darkness, making out the tiny outline of his son. "What's wrong, bud?" He's whispering, but it's a futile gesture: Will can already feel Alana sitting up beside him.

"I had a bad dream," Jesse informs them in a small, shaky voice.

"Oh, no," Alana says, voice scratchy with sleep but threaded with sympathy. "What happened, baby?"

Scrambling up to sit on the foot of the bed, Jesse explains, "Our house was sinking into the sand. It was shaking and everything was falling, and I couldn't find you."

Alana reaches out, and Jesse gratefully shuffles closer so she can thread her fingers through his dark curls. "That does sound scary. Good thing we don't live on quicksand, huh?"

"Yeah," Jesse sniffles, and Will's heart catches. "Can I sleep in your bed?"

They exchange a quick look; at three years old, they've tried to get Jesse in the habit of sleeping in his own bed, and for the most part he does. Now, though, Will's the one who answers, "Sure. But just for tonight, okay, buddy?"

"Kay." Relieved, Jesse immediately crawls the rest of the way onto the bed, burrowing under the covers between his parents. His small, ice cold feet shove their way under Will's legs, searching for warmth. 

Alana leans over and kisses his cheek. "Go back to sleep, okay, Jess?"

"Kay."

"Goodnight, buddy," Will adds softly.

"Night." 

Safe now, it doesn't take long for Jesse's breathing to even out. After a moment, though, Alana's voice floats through the darkness. "You okay?" There's a weight to her voice that makes it clear she isn't talking to their son.

"Yeah," Will replies automatically, but he doesn't sound sure. "You...you think _he_ is?"

"Kids have bad dreams, Will," Alana assures him gently. "It's nothing to worry about."

"I just...I hate seeing him scared." He tries to sound matter of fact, but his voice betrays the depth of his worry; with some difficulty, Alana extracts her arm without jostling Jesse, and reaches over to thread her fingers gently through Will's hair. He turns his head to look at her, eyes glowing in the darkness. "And I worry...he always makes us check the closet, and now this dream..."

"I know," she says softly. "But Will...all it takes for him to stop worrying about the closet is _you_ saying there's nothing there. All he needs to get back to sleep after a nightmare is to sleep beside us."

Confused, Will says, "Yeah..."

"He feels safe," Alana explains in a whisper. "There's nothing that scares him enough that he thinks _we_ can't fix it." She slides her hand from his hair and rests her palm against Will's cheek. "He doesn't have any more bad dreams, or any more anxiety, than any other kid his age. And the important thing, Will, is that we make him feel safe."

Will's quiet for a moment, turning this over in his mind. Then he lifts himself up on his elbow, leaning over Jesse's sleeping form and leaning down to kiss his wife, a thanks. "You make me feel safe," he whispers when he pulls back, their noses bumping in the darkness. 

"Good. No more nightmares from you, either, okay?"

Will lies back down, but he shoots her a soft, tender smile she can't see in the darkness. "Not from me. I get to sleep in your bed every night."

*

Jack Crawford has to chalk it up to pure bad luck that it's Alana, not Will, whom he sees first when he arrives at the beach house.

She's walking around from the back of the house, barefoot, a plastic sand bucket in her hand, wearing denim shorts and tugging a red plaid shirt over a black tank top, her hair in a long ponytail, and she pulls up short when she sees the car pulling into her driveway. When its occupant climbs out, revealing himself, Alana visibly stiffens, expression wary.

"Jack." 

"Hi, Alana." 

She doesn't come closer, and Jack hovers awkwardly by his car. They haven't seen each other for two years, and thus the anomaly of Jack's unannounced visit has has rendered Alana uninterested in any warm greetings. She throws a glance over her shoulder, toward the backyard, before turing back to Jack, asking politely, "How've you been?"

"Oh, fine. And you?"

She lifts an eyebrow, a pointed look. "We're great." There's an unmistakable, unspoken warning hovering at the end of the sentence: _we're great, so don't tell me you're here to fuck that up_.

For a moment they watch each other, cautious, waiting for the other to make a move. Finally, after giving another glance over her shoulder, Alana turns back to Jack and gives him an accommodating smile. "Okay, Jack, so there are two options here. Either you were in the area on business, and just decided to stop in and say hello because it's been awhile, in which case I'd love it if you stayed for dinner." Her eyes narrow. " _Or_. You're here to try to get Will back to work. In which case you can get back in your car right now, because the answer's no." 

Jack sighs, immediately placating. "It's one case, Alana-"

She shakes her head, cutting him off swiftly. "It was good to see you, Jack." She turns her back on him, starting toward the back of the house.

"You don't think that's something Will should decide?"

Alana whips around and regards him coolly. "He's my _husband_. I know him, and I know what he'll decide. I'm just not giving you a chance to make him feel bad about that."

"I'm not planning on-"

Rolling her eyes, Alana interrupts, "It hasn't been _that_ long, Jack. I remember how you work." She gives him a challenging look, daring him to contradict her. "You'll tell him you're desperate, and you'll remind him he'd be saving lives about five times over the course of the conversation. You maybe even hand picked the case, one you thought had the best chance of luring him back...one with kids, maybe. Appeal to him as a parent. Say he should be making the world safer for Jesse." 

Jack's eyes skirt away, turning possible arguments over in his head, unable to deny the accusations completely. After a moment, he simply asks her, "You disagree?"

Alana's eyes flash, and for a moment Jack prepares himself for one of Alana's loud, verbal takedowns, but then she surprises him by turning away, and calling toward the backyard. "Jess, baby, c'mere for a minute."

After a moment, the little boy runs around the corner of the house. Jesse slows to a stop when he spots the stranger in his driveway, glancing at his mom uncertainly.

Alana smiles at him reassuringly, holding out her hand for her son. "Jesse, this is Jack. He used to work with Daddy. Come say hi." 

Jack's momentarily encouraged by this friendly gesture, but in the next second, as the little boy grabs Alana's hand and approaches, Jack's face darkens as he realizes he's being manipulated.

Manipulated by cuteness.

Jack hasn't seen the boy since he was an infant; he's got Will's head of dark, curly hair, and is staring up at Jack with exact replicas of his mother's pale blue eyes. He's barefoot, wearing a blue bathing suit and a red cape wrapped around his bare shoulders.

Jesse edges behind his mother's legs, and Alana touches him gently on top of the head. "Can you say hi?"

"Hi," the boy says solemnly. 

"Hi, Jesse," Jack smiles at him. "I haven't seen you since you were a tiny little thing. What are you now, forty-five?" 

A small smile creeps onto Jesse's face as he shakes his head.

"Thirty-seven?"

"No!"

"You _can't_ be younger than twenty-one."

"I'm _four_."

"Ah. Well, that's still pretty old."

"Yeah." He grins, then tilts his head back to look at Alana, as though silently asking if his obligation if fulfilled. 

Alana smiles at her son and passes him the bright orange bucket she's been holding. "Why don't you go inside and show Daddy the shells we found?"

Jesse's face lights up. "Yeah! I wanna show him the part of the sand dollar."

"Ooh, yeah, he'll be super excited about that one."

Jack and Alana both watch as Jesse runs up the porch steps and into the house, red cape billowing behind him. "We're having a very superhero themed summer," Alana says conversationally. "Though he spends a lot his time hunting for treasure, so there's some piratey stuff in there, too." 

"He's beautiful, Alana." 

She smiles automatically, eyes shining with fondness. "Thank you." After a moment, her smile fades into a look of intense concentration, like she's being particularly selective about what she says next. Eventually, Alana turns and meets Jack's eyes. "What Jesse needs...is for his dad to be okay." She lets that sink in for a moment. "Will's good, Jack. He's _so_ good, and he's happy, and you _don't_ get to drag him back into hell. You don't get to screw with my family." She crosses her arms, eyes glinting, jaw tight. "Now. Will you be staying for dinner? Or do you need to get back in your car and drive away?"

A moment of silence passes. Then, Jack nods his head once in acquiescence. "Dinner would be great, thanks."

*

Alana escorts Jack inside. Jesse's sitting on Will's lap at the kitchen table, the two of them bent intently over rows of seashells, meticulously arranged on the table. Will glances up when they walk in, his face immediately registering the surprise of the guest. "Jack." 

There's caution in his eyes, though not nearly as much as Alana's almost hostile suspicion, but still Jack says hastily, "I was just in the area, finishing up a case, and I thought I'd stop by."

Relief floods Will's eyes, and he gives Jack a genuine smile. Alana glances sideways at Jack, giving him the barest hint of an approving nod. "I told Jack he's welcome for dinner." 

"Of course. It's great to see you." Will stands, depositing Jesse on the ground and going to shake Jack's hand. 

For the rest of the evening, Jack honors the agreement. He can feel Alana eying him, ready to swoop in and, presumably, forcibly escort him out of the house the second he slips, but gradually even she begins to relax. Jesse gets over his initial shyness when he learns Jack "catches bad guys" for a living, and the more Jack observes the three of them, the more he begrudgingly begins to understand Alana's point of view.

After dinner, they're sitting around the living room, chatting and sipping beer while Jesse rolls Hot Wheels cars over the couch and, occasionally, his parents' legs. After awhile, though, Alana tells him to say goodnight to Jack and, with promises that Will will be upstairs to tell him goodnight soon, she takes the boy upstairs to get ready for bed, throwing Jack a quick look before disappearing upstairs. 

Jack glances away from her to find Will watching him, expression scrutinizing. For a moment, they're quiet, listening to the sounds of Alana's footsteps and the soft hum of her and Jesse's conversation. When they're out of range, however, Will wastes no time before asking casually, "So why are you really here, Jack?"

There are about five seconds where Jack debates denying it, but then he remembers who he's talking to. So he just smiles wryly and says, "I've been told unequivocally to forget all about it. Or else."

Will's smile is instantaneous. "Right, I noticed her monitoring you." The smile fades, and he looks back at Jack, expression curious, but bordering on the incredulous. "You were going to ask me to come back?" 

"Just for one case." 

This provokes a skeptical look. "Really."

Jack sighs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. " _And_ then I figured we'd see what else came of it." Jack shrugs a little, oddly embarrassed; somehow, after a few hours of observing Will - happier and more relaxed than Jack's ever seen him - with his family have made Jack's earlier plan seem ridiculous. "Thought retirement might be boring you." 

"It's not," Will counters immediately. He sips his beer, expression thoughtful. "Alana's got a steady patient load. When Jesse starts school, maybe I'll start teaching again, pick up a few criminology classes, but right now..." Will pauses, then smiles slightly, looking pleasantly surprised to find himself able to say, with complete honesty, "I'm good." 

With a nod of acknowledgement, Jack agrees, "I can see that."

"Can't go back to that head space," Will mutters, to himself as much to Jack, face darkening just a little. "Too damn unpredictable. Too consuming." He meets Jack's eyes. "I can't do that to them." 

"I'm not asking you to," Jack reassures him firmly. After a second, he cracks a smile, and only half-jokingly adds, "Make sure the record reflects that, if Alana asks." 

Will smiles at that. "Will do."

Twenty minutes later, Alana comes back into the living room, sinking onto the couch beside Will and easily plucking the beer from his hands to take a sip. "We did the song, story's all yours."

"Got it." Will leans over and kisses Alana, just a quick, soft brush against the corner of her lips; it's the sort of practiced, habitual gesture that contains a world of certainty, a steady promise that they will be kissing each other at the end of conversations for a lifetime to come. 

Will stands to go upstairs, smiling at Alana and mouthing _Be nice_. She smirks, watching him go before turning to Jack, expression almost smug. "So. What did he say?"

Instantly defensive, Jack clarifies, "I didn't bring up anything about it." 

Alana waves him off; there's nothing accusatory in her face or voice. "I figured he'd ask."

Begrudgingly, Jack admits, "He said he's good here. And that he can't go back to that place, mentally."

"Told you," Alana says flatly. 

"I didn't try to convince him." Jack pauses, then adds, "I'm sorry. I should never have even considered it."

"No, you shouldn't have. Not after what he went through." Her eyes shutter for a moment, and she bites her lip, banishing painful memories. "But it's alright."

"He's lucky," Jack tells her sincerely. "To have you looking out for him. He always has been."

Smiling slightly, Alana's eyes drift to a photo on the end table beside Jack's chair: the three of them on a pier, the ocean in the background, Jesse in her arms, head on her shoulder, smiling sleepily at the camera, and Will's arm around both of them. "We're both lucky," she says softly. 

 

*

Jesse is a warm weight against Will's side as he reads aloud from a Curious George picture book. His voice is a warm, quiet lilt, each inflection in his tone long established; the book is a favorite, and gets read frequently in the nightly rotation. 

When Curious George and the Man in the Yellow Hat are happily eating their favorite pizza, Will closes the book. "The end." He gently tousles Jesse's hair. "Time for light's out, little man."

"Okay. Is the night light on?"

"It is."

"Can you check the closet?"

"Of course." Will stands up, stopping by the bookshelf to put Curious George back in place, then walks to the closet to do a cursory glance inside. 

Before he can give the all clear, Jesse asks, "Daddy?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"Did you really help Jack catch bad guys?"

Will pauses, then turns around to face his son. "For a little while."

His blue eyes gleaming, Jesse exclaims, "That's so cool. So you were like a real superhero?"

Closing the closet door, Will walks over to the sit on the edge of the bed and smiles. "I was a pretty bad superhero, Jess. I didn't even wear a cape." He pokes the little boy in the belly of his Superman pajamas, provoking a peal of giggles. "Not like you. You're a much better superhero than I was." 

"But you did catch real life bad guys, right?"

For a moment, Will's stomach tightens unpleasantly as he thinks back to his conversation with Jack. He remembers what it was like, the kind of things he had to imagine, the dark places his mind had to go. He thinks about how he got so close to real life bad guys, that for awhile people thought he was one. The long months in that jail cell. The scar across his gut Hannibal gave him. All that pain and fear and darkness that Will wants to keep far, far away from his son.

"Sometimes," he says eventually. "I helped catch _some_ of the real life bad guys."

Jesse grins. "So it's kinda like we're both superheroes." 

Laughing a little, Will nods in agreement. "I guess so."

"What about Mommy?"

"Oh, man, buddy..." Will's face softens, and the memories skim through again, but this time it's Alana he's remembering: Alana visiting him unfailingly in jail, constantly assuring him she was on his side; Alana's fierce, passionate testimony at his trial; Alana by his bedside in the hospital, every day, never flinching, pushing and supporting him through every day of recovery. "Your mom is the best kind of superhero. One day I'll tell you about all the times she saved my life."

Jesse's eyes, so wonderfully like Alana's, widen in awestruck wonder. " _Really_?"

"Really."

"I wanna hear now."

"Not tonight. It's past your bedtime. And, anyway, it's a _super_ long story."

"Okay."

Will brushes back a few of Jesse's curls and kisses him on the forehead, then wraps the little boy in one armed hug. "Goodnight, little man. I love you."

"Love you, too," Jesse mumbles automatically, exhaustion beginning to creep its way into his voice. 

Will flips off the lamp, leaving only the blueish glow of a dinosaur nightlight in the corner. He's halfway out the door when Jesse asks sleepily, "Daddy?"

"Mmm?"

"D'you think that's why there are never any monsters in the closet? Because they know everyone in the house is a superhero?"

"Jess, we talked about this."

"I know," he says impatiently. "But even if they aren't _real_ , they probably know to stay away."

"I'm sure they do." Will steps into the hallway, leaving the door open a crack. "Goodnight, Jess."

"Night, Daddy."


End file.
